


family in the time of totalitarianism

by zoroarks



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Drug Addiction, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, basically that morty rick finds doesn't like. stab him, beause he's actually been held against his will by the mortytown locos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 08:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoroarks/pseuds/zoroarks
Summary: none of his training prepared him for this.the room looks like a nursery, with a red tarp duct taped over the only window. just enough light gets through the fabric for him to see, and it's hardly even that. what he does look at is a morty, yet, this isn't how he'd expected this to go. the kid is standing in the center of the room with an attentive, frightened look to him, as if he'd heard the commotion in the other room but was far too afraid to actually investigate. this morty looks utterly traumatized, so much so that the rookie cop actually feels a lasting pang in his heart. tears are beginning to pool in the boy's eyes and then fall down his puffy cheeks as he asks, with what seems like the first twinge of hope he's had in a long while, "are- are you... my new r-rick?"





	1. the raid

it's rick who kicks the door down, even though his more experienced partner must be capable - maybe he doesn't want to do anything menial, risk the chance of seeming like a sidekick who works under the orders of the other officer. this, of course, might make rick himself look like the sidekick... if things were different. that's not how things are here, though, and it never will be. not even in mortytown could anyone think of a rick as the sidekick, because that's not the way it is. even with that morty running for president of the citadel, there are some basic concepts which you can't nail out of the heads of the ricks and morties who live there. so, yes, his partner has every right to be defensive, and rick isn't going to force him to act otherwise. this is what his sensitivity training was supposed to be for, and he's nothing if not a follower of rules, strictly obedient to whatever it was they taught him before today, his very first time on duty as a working cop. besides, there's no time to argue with criminals so close. even if things seem calm enough for now, they can always escalate, heating up in a moment. each second they spent outside of the door had been a second wasted, in rick's eyes.

"hands in the air!" he commands, voice taking on a tone of authority as he draws his weapon in sync with his partner. there are three morties, all with matching tattoos (this assures him that they're the mortytown locos, the group which those morties in the alley had been forced to indicate) and stained clothes, as well as one of the worst-looking ricks he's ever seen. it's all he can do not to take a sharp breath of pity for all of them, but he reminds himself of the path they took. what brought them to it doesn't matter anymore; besides, the smell of the room, and the building overall, really discourages him from doing much gasping or heavy breathing.

"what the hell, man? what the hellin' hell?" shouts the one who had been sitting on the farther side of the couch from the cops as the trio stand, all three of them raising their hands above them while their rick idles in the back of the room, hovering over an unimpressive chemical setup - 'chemistry homework with grandpa' is what his partner refers to it as, tone accusatory whilst he moves to grab the handcuffs, but rick isn't paying that much attention to him right now. whatever line he's using really isn't the important part of this whole thing.

"is this what i  _think_ it is?" he asks, glancing at the shorter officer for a moment before returning his gaze to the other rick, who he has held steadily at close-range gunpoint now. one move could be the death of him, and they both know it - but is he the type of rick to risk that, or the type of rick to play it safe? when he hears morty's voice again, he turns his whole head in his direction to hear his brief answer, even though it's something that he's already smart enough to know.

one second, he's hearing the bored words - "bootleg portal fluid" - and the next, everything is swept off of the miserably tiny worktable, shoved in their direction as some sort of distraction while the worn-looking rick picks up a portal gun to match his own rugged, dirty features. the familiar green swirl opens up in front of him, and for just about three seconds, it looks like he's going to get away. that doesn't happen. he lets out a final scream, then becomes a victim to his own faulty science, skeleton visible for a moment before he's gone entirely, not a trace left in any time, place, or universe that would indicate what was once his existence. "i guess his math was off," morty says nonchalantly, seeming much less shocked about the event that just took place than rick does, eyes half-lidded in a casual way whereas the rookie's are big, lips turned into a deeper frown than usual. if the other cop notices, then he doesn't care. "search the place."

just like last time, he obeys without a word. it's not as if he has a reason to, because he would've done that anyway, and he isn't the type to feel discouraged about doing something solely because someone is telling him to do it. still holding his weapon, rick moves out, looking around while staying close to the walls. when he comes across his first corner, he peers around it to make sure that there's no one down the hall, then silently creeps around it, spotting an open entryway. cautiously, he gets as close as he can to the doorway (there's not a door attached, just one leftover hinge) without being seen from anyone who might be instead, then rolls in, gun at the ready. with the slightest movement, he could kill any morty or rick who's here, affiliating themselves with the three gangsters back in the other room, because that's what he was trained for.

none of his training prepared him for this.

the room looks like a nursery, with a red tarp duct taped over the only window. just enough light gets through the fabric for him to see, and it's hardly even that. what he does look at is a morty, yet, this isn't how he'd expected this to go. the kid is standing in the center of the room with an attentive, frightened look to him, as if he'd heard the commotion in the other room but was far too afraid to actually investigate. his clothes, the classic yellow shirt and jeans that all morties seem to favor, are terribly stained; it looks like he pissed in them more than once, and never got to clean or change them afterwards. that's what the room smells like, too - urine and blood and overall grime, odors like sweat and alcohol mixing unpleasantly in rick's nose in a way that makes him wrinkle it for a moment before turning his attention back to the kid in front of him. there are tears in his eyes, eyes that set him apart from most of the morties he's seen, the depth and fear in them something he isn't sure he's seen  _anywhere_ before now. the morty looks utterly traumatized, so much so that the rookie cop actually feels a lasting pang in his heart. tears are beginning to pool in the boy's eyes and then fall down his puffy cheeks as he asks, with what seems like the first twinge of hope he's had in a long while, "are- are you... my new r-rick?"

realizing he's been keeping up the gun this entire time, knowing it must be scaring the kid (he's a teenager, sure, but he looks so much younger than all of the other morties he's seen when he's in here, like this), rick holsters it, standing slowly and putting up both of his hands to show that he's not a threat. "it's okay, morty." the look he gets when he moves forwards and picks up the shaky, dirty morty is one of disbelief. not exactly a specific mistrust, which is good, but whatever happened to this one, he certainly doesn't trust any part of the world right now. his eyes are wide and shakes are turning into tremors as he desperately wraps his legs around this strange rick, head over his shoulder, held in place by the old man's arms. it seems as if he expects to be hurt, or thrown down, like this is a trick, but nothing like that happens. rick is surprised to feel him go limp in his arms, passing out while he returns to the main room, but realizes that he shouldn't be. maybe this is the first time that this morty feels safe enough to fall asleep at all in a while, so he doesn't have it in him to wake him up just yet. they should probably get him to a hospital first, anyways.

"who's that?" asks the other cop, arms crossed as he waits impatiently. the other morties are all restrained, and it looks like he might've knocked them out, too, but rick doesn't care about how they're doing at the moment.

"a morty."

"oh, yeah, that really clears it up, rick."

rick opens his mouth, then closes it. he doesn't really know what to tell him, because he doesn't know much about who this morty is or what he was doing there, but he feels certain that he isn't bad. how could he be? "i don't know, i think they were keeping him here. let's just get him to the hospital." a hint of desperation enters his voice despite himself. sure, his partner has seemed pretty harsh so far, and he doesn't seem to care that much about what other morties want or need, but he can't just let him leave the kid there. it's no longer a matter of regulations, either; it would be a violations of his personal code of ethics, as silly as it may be for a rick to have one of those. if morty were to tell him to leave this poor soul behind, then he wouldn't. he'd rather be disobedient to someone he's trying to win over than let a victim of something so terrible just  _die._

a sigh leaves the shorter of them, and he puts a hand on rick's back for a second in some kind of comforting gesture - maybe he feels bad for the rookie, getting emotional, caring about anything in their line of work. isn't that why you're supposed to get into law enforcement in the citadel? to help any ricks or morties (mostly the latter) who can't help themselves? "go to the car and put him in the back. let me finish up with this," is morty's next instruction, and rick grunts an affirmative, following those orders, too. he doesn't care what happens to the three on the couch right now, or what the cop morty is about to do; all he wants is to make sure this one is gonna be alright. his footsteps feel extra heavy as he moves to their car, opening the backdoor so he can gently rest the kid inside. he'll probably have to pay for it to be cleaned after they take him somewhere, but he doesn't care. this, too, is worth it.

while he's making sure the teen is going to be comfortable, just in case he wakes up on the way, he's alarmed by a nose behind him. when he turns around, the entire building is disappearing in a manner similar to the one that the other rick had, while his partner walks away from the exit, unharmed. the brightness of it forces rick to squint for a moment, shielding his eyes, arm only dropping once the light dies down. "what happened?" he asks, honestly confused. he'd thought that they would call in someone else, get those three picked up and driven to containment, but this obviously isn't going to be the case.

"same old story. morties killing morties." that's the only answer he gets before the driver's door is shut, and he stares at the ground for a moment before hurrying to his own seat, so they can leave. he sees one morty's expression change when he looks at the other in the backseat, and he can't tell what that was conveying. pity? disgust? does he really not care for the life of his counterpart at all? feeling troubled, rick shuts the door and stares out of the windshield as they drive, no more words passing between them. at least they get to take this kid somewhere that he can be taken care of, get better... at least, that's what rick thinks.

morty, on the other hand, has different plans. there can't be a survivor for this one, not after all the codes they broke today. maybe the rookie wouldn't understand, so he won't explain it, but he knows he'll be thankful later on. the senior officer doesn't mention it as they miss the turn for the hospital, wondering if it'll get pointed out. it doesn't, and he's glad, because he doesn't really feel like explaining. this is tiring work, dragging around someone new, someone so idealistic - just like his last partner.  _this is for your own good, rick._ the two drive on in silence, their passenger still as he lies down in the backseat.


	2. the wishing portal

lost in thought, rick doesn't even begin to notice that they're driving very far out of the way. thinking they probably won't get into much more today, he's taken it upon himself to worry solely about the morty in the backseat. ironically, his concerned daze is exactly what's allowing his partner to drive them away from the help that the civilian needs so desperately. despite all of his training at the academy, rick isn't good with the whole taking care of people thing. in his universe, he never had a beth - he was never even married. he'd never imagined having a family until he was invited to the citadel, and even then, iit hadn't really sounded all that great to him, aside from the whole cloaking device thing that morties offered. it had always seemed wrong to him, using any kid for something like that, so he'd never tried to get a morty for himself. wanting to help the citadel, he'd applied to be a cop instead. the job is already harder than he thought ite'd be, but in his opinion, no real rick would ever give up (not that he's a prime example of most ricks, but the point still stands).

"we're here," morty says plainly, forcing rick to pay attention again. although this gives him a temporary twinge of annoyance, it soon fades, first replaced with the flood of feelings he has thanks to their situation, and then with... confusion. this isn't the hospital, nor is it anything close.

for a few moments, his mouth won't work. "isn't this... isn't this place for garbage disposal?" it's not like he's ever been to one, but he's familiar with the concept - the waste from the citadel is tossed into a portal, dropped off at go -know -where to beoome somebody else's problem. that really does sound like a rick thing; maybe not him, but other ricks? definitely other ricks.

"you really do make the best observations, rookie," morty snaps sarcastically as he stands, puncuating the final word with a slam of the car door. before rick can comprehend what's going on, the back door is open and shut as well, the two acts broken apart by the simple, uncaring way that one morty drags the other out of the backseat, hoisting him easily. feels like this one doesn't eat much, and that's what he absently thinks about as he turns and marches towards the mainenance entrance. this is where rick regains his senses and scrambles out after him, having no trouble catching up with his long legs. is this what mothers feel like when their kids do something dangerous: apprehensive and jittering with anxiety?

"what are we doing? why here?"

he doesn't get an answer, silenced with a glare, but he really does want (and need) to trust this morty... for now, he'll give him the benefit of the doubt, walking by his side as they move into the facility. finally, he gets something out of the other, but it isn't what he was expecting. "morties - they call this the wishing portal."

rick still thinks it's strange how his partner keeps disowning his morty status, but he's going to have to look past it for right now. "the wishing portal?"

"yes, rick. the wishing portal. they say if you throw something important in here, you'll be granted a wish."

"and... will you?"

"of course not," morty scoffs. "i thought you were a damned rick, rookie." rick wonders, for just a second, if this morty ever did believe in this thing. or has he always been this way? he's starting to seem like even more of a rick than he is, and that doesn't make it any easier to grit his teeth and pretend he hadn't heard the last remark.

"so? why are we here?" he finally asks, irritation really getting into his tone. rick might be new, but that doesn't make him stupid. he doesn't think so, at least, and neither should morty. having more experience, being around the citadel longer, it doesn't mean anything. they're supposed to be partners, and showing someone the ropes isn't comparable to being in charge.

"oh jeez, i-i- i dunno, rick!" it's a mimicry of the way most morties, including the unconscious one in his arms, always seem to speak; it's the same way he talked to the morties in that alleyway, but more of a mockery than before. he laughs humorlessly before returning to his natural voice. "you said it yourself, rick. garbage disposal. and, what do we have here..?" the cop pauses, like he expects an answer, then shakes the kid in his arms around a little, careless. "garbage."

that's when rick's eyes widen with understanding, which gets a laugh out of morty. it seems like the senior officer is about to say something when the other morty starts to stir in his arms. upon noticing that he's being held, he begins to panic, and rick can't help but wonder why he hadn't reacted like that in his arms. he does nothing but watch at first: the cop curses while the victim thrashes his arms and legs; then, he screams, tears running down his face, pleading and begging like he knows exactly what's about to go down.

everything slows to a near stop as the larger, more aggressive morty holds the weaker one still with both hands, steadily lifting him up, ready to throw him into the swirling green vortex below them. this is when rick acts, his intervention primarily thoughtless because he really is acting on instinct at this point. first, he holds onto the morty he'd found in that long-gone hell of a house, his focus on not letting him fall to his near-certain death. his partner pulls back, but not with enough force; once he has no part of the other morty in his hold, rick pushes him away, driven to protect. it takes him a moment to realize what he's done. the fourth morty he's been around to kill today, and the first one who he was very directly responsible for killing. rick swallows, hard. he shouldn't have done that, but... when he looks down at the remaining morty, he feels justified. sort of.

the teen is curled up into a tight ball on the ground, whimpering and shaking from the whole ordeal. rick doesn't blame him, he just wishes he knew how to make it better; what had he done last time? "morty," he says as softly as he can, kneeling down on the floor and tentatively getting closer. "you're okay, morty. he's-... he's gone." movements slight, he gingerly places one hand on the boy's back, rubbing a circle between his shoulder blades. after becoming tense, morty realizes that he isn't in immidiate danger, relaxing quickly - taking this as a sign, rick enlists the help of his other arm, picking the poor morty up like he had earlier. he buries his face into the cop's shoulder, obviously trying not to cry anymore, and it's making rick feel worse every second. he thought ricks weren't supposed to care about morties, and he'd always disagreed somewhat, but never so strongly. how could someone look at this kid's big, sad eyes and feel nothing? frowning, he quickens his pace, returning to the car as if he hadn't just murdered another cop. his thoughts are racing, plans brewing the back of his mind, but he isn't used to all of these uncertainties. he's always felt so secure in his actions, led by morality, but right now, the lines are too blurred for that. first things first: morty really should see a doctor. the kid looks awful, even moreso in the daylight than he had in that dark room. pale, bruised, scarred, cut. his clothes hang too loose on his frail body.

rick sits him up in the passenger seat, buckles him in, and moves to his own side. luckily, the other morty had left the keys behind, and he drives off easily. at first, they go pretty fast, but that seems to make the kid more nervous - he can practically feel his heart racing from behind the wheel - so he slows down a bit. the last thing morty needs is additional stress.

after what feels like the longest drive of his life, rick pulls up to the emergency room, scooping the morty up in his arms once again. this is more personal, now, than it ever should've been, but it's too late to take back the attatchment he's found himself forming to the teen, without knowing anything about him. "i'll take care of it, morty. you're okay," rick murmurs, unsure if he's evem being listened to. he is - it's the last thing morty heara before passing out once again, still feeling uncertain. at least he thinks he can trust one person right now. that's better than nothing, and it's definitely better than being held captive by three drugged-up, crazy morties.

he's forgotten what it feels like, being safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't going to publish so soon, but i couldn't help myself. thank you so much for the positive reviews! we'll learn more about this morty in the next chapter, i promise.
> 
> (i'd also like to apologize for the low quality of this chapter! it was all written on my phone, with little time to edit it. i'll most likely change some things tomorrow to fix it up!)

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments, they really help me write new chapters and get through the story. i hope you guys like this concept, i've been wanting to write it out since i saw this episode!


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